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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891936">Rune Anthology</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterkiss/pseuds/monsterkiss'>monsterkiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Gen, Marriage, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:27:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterkiss/pseuds/monsterkiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An anthology of mini-fic for the Rune Factory 4 Special NA Release Celebration event!</p><p>Day One: Sprout (Gen)<br/>Day Two: Exploration (Dolce/Xiao Pai)<br/>Day Three: Growth (Gen)<br/>Day Four: Free Day (Frey/Ventuswill)<br/>Day Five: Bloom (Gen)<br/>Day Six: Sunny Days (Illuminata/Margaret)<br/>Day Seven: Bountiful Harvest (Gen)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dolce/Xiao Pai (Rune Factory), Frey/Ventuswill (Rune Factory), Illuminata/Margaret (Rune Factory)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sprout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every season feels like its own little fresh start. A time to grow new things, of course, refreshing the earth and filling the fields with colour anew. But from there, a time to try new things, new recipes, new projects, gifts to surprise the neighbours with, new cooking smells filling the castle. </p><p>From such a small thing, a handful of seeds scattered over the earth, a gentle shower of water, so many new possibilities. Learning and experimentation, disaster and surprise, beauty and new friendships. A chance to grow, and a chance to grow.</p><p>The air feels different today. Time to begin again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Exploration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The vase was expensive. Xiao Pai could tell that right away, sizing it up in one practiced glance. The pattern was delicate and intricate, deft brush strokes forming the shapes of woolies and humans engaged in some sort of ritual, which appeared to largely feature potatoes. Below the glaze it was clear to a well-trained eye that it had been fired by a pink dragon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, the greatest clue that this particular piece was incredibly valuable was the fact that Xiao Pai was flying into it at great speed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” She flung up her arms as she fell forward, feet hopelessly tangled in a broken chair, waiting for the inevitable crash.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It never came, instead, she looked up from her sleeves to see Dolce clasping her close with one arm, steadying the vase with the other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“D-Dolce, I’m sorry, it almost happened again…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elf shrugged, straightening her hat. “It’s no bother. No harm was done. Come, let’s continue.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She released Xiao, and resumed her leisurely walk down the hallway, brushing aside cobwebs with her staff as she went. Xiao hurried after her, not keen to become lost in this unnerving old house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, Dolce?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” She turned, her profile lit by the light of the full moon gleaming through the windows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a bother, yes? To have me come with you on these journeys?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dolce blinked slowly, turning to the moon. “Coming to this place is not easy for me. There are many memories… I suppose that with your company, I find it hard to become lost in my own thoughts for very long.” Then she smiled, a look that should have looked far more foreboding and not quite so, well, cute.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Xiao Pai smiled back, not sure she understood, but reassured enough that she barely even squeaked when she next knocked a priceless trinket from its ornate perch.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Growth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s such a little thing, in the end. So small, so delicate.</p><p>Her hands gently brush away the dust, the fine Selphia earth, soft and accommodating, rich and full of potential. The seedling is caught in the wind, little leaves fluttering, and she reaches down instinctively to shelter it.</p><p>Unnecessary; the shoot is strong, tethered to the fertile earth already. Her own breath causes it to shiver, and she realises just how close she had crouched down. </p><p>She rose to her feet, a little self-conscious, brushing the dirt from her gloves. The seedling is dwarfed by her, as are its neighbours, bright specks of life rising forth.</p><p>She feels warm. And proud, which is silly; she barely did any work, but her face is beaming all the same. She looks out at the rest of the field, seeing not the dry, barren field of dust, but what it could be, with just a little more work. </p><p>Since she is here already, why not? It’s as good a role as any other.</p><p>A little thing, small, delicate, but with roots that stretched deep down into her soul.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Free Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frey tugged her dress down again, smoothing out the folds and creases. “How do I look, Clorica?” She huffed, tossing her hair roughly.</p><p>“Hmm?” The butler-in-training pawed her train halfheartedly.</p><p>“Like a total mess, right?” She pulled her gloves on, then just as quickly removed them.</p><p>“Uhh, I think you look… cute…” Even now, Clorica seemed to be struggling to keep her head above consciousness.</p><p>Frey sighed, making a prayer to any gods that might be listening. “Ugh, at this rate this is gonna be a national embarrassment. Why did I agree to this?”</p><p>“I think, um… there was a big meeting…”</p><p>“Forget it, Clorica, just… see if you can find Volkanon.” She couldn’t afford to have her servant wasting her finite energy on rhetorical questions. “Maybe he can make this…” She plucked at the ritual dress despondently. “Make this… less bad.”</p><p>Clorica nodded, slipping out in butlery silence. Frey watched her go, then returned to the mirror, trying to smudge some of the makeup into a less gaudy tone. When she heard movement behind her she spun around.</p><p>“Volkanon, you have to- oh.” She paused, her arms falling awkwardly to her sides. “Venti.”</p><p>The dragon’s head and neck had been squashed through the arch in a very ungainly fashion that had knocked over one dresser and probably looked quite amusing from the other side. Her large, intelligent eyes focussed on Frey, and her voice came in her softer, more casual air.</p><p>“Hey, Frey. So. Uh, how are you doing?”</p><p>“How am I doing?” Frey stepped forward to fall at the dragon’s side, crumpling the terrible dress even more. “I’m kinda losing it, Venti! We’re not ready! I’m not ready! Look at me!”</p><p>One of the great eyes swept over her. “I don’t know, you look okay to me? All you humans look a little silly anyway.” She nudged her gently with her snout. “It’s not as if it’s you they’re gonna be staring at, anyway, right?”</p><p>Frey shoved her back, fighting back the little smile tugging her lips. “I think a few people might notice I showed up.”</p><p>Ventuswill chuckled. “Well, perhaps if they need a break from my radiance...” She sighed, the sounds of settling wings coming from beyond. “You know,” she said softly, “you don’t have to do this. If it’s really too much-”</p><p>“No! I mean, yes, but…” Frey gestured in the air, waving her gloves in her hands before resting against the beast’s form. “Everything since I first got here has kinda been too much. And then I got to it, and… I guess I was just a little more. So, this…” She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the scales under her cheek. “Once I get there, once it’s do or die… I’ll do.”</p><p>Ventuswill hummed. “Well I certainly hope so. It would be a pain to clean you off the castle walls.”</p><p>Frey snorted. “Yeah, I’d hate to put Clorica and Vishnal through that.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, the low hum of the dragon’s breath soothing her, calming her.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Ventuswill looked down at her. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>The dragon nodded, and had begun to wriggle gracelessly out of the room, when there was a great, bellowing call.</p><p>“My lady! Ah, my ladies,” Volkanon’s voice was still at far too high an octave as he entered the enclosed room, bowing furiously.</p><p>“Volkanon,” Frey gasped, one hand to her chest as she rose. “Don’t worry, it’s all fine now! It was just jitters-”</p><p>“No, Miss Frey, please-”</p><p>“Who cares about the dress, it’s traditional, that’s enough-”</p><p>“Please, my lady! It is horribly urgent! I apologise for my insolence and will punish myself at the first available opportunity!”</p><p>Frey paused, leaning against Ventuswill’s great snout. </p><p>The dragon huffed, back in her formal voice. “Speak.”</p><p>The butler nodded, bowing with mathematical precision. “Lady Ventuswill, Lady Frey, it appears we have made… a small error. It seems that the tome of Selphian history you uncovered deep in the catacombs may have been… well, a work of fiction. A parody.”</p><p>The Princess and the Dragon stared at the man, who for the first time seemed to shrink away.</p><p>“So,” Ventuswill said, carefully, “you mean that the requirement that an incumbent royal…”</p><p>Volkanon visibly swallowed. “That they are… wedded to the dragon overseeing the land? A… misunderstanding, ma’am. A joke.” He shuffled on his feet. “Quite an amusing pun, actually, in the original tongue…” He looked up, nodded to both of them. “Well. I will… I am sure you have things… Vishnal and Clorica…”</p><p>“Leave, Volkanon.”</p><p>The butler turned smartly on his heel and marched. Once the sharp click of his heels in the hallway faded, all that remained was the low thrum of the crowds assembling outside, and the throbbing of their respective hearts.</p><p>“Well,” said Ventuswill.</p><p>“Yes,” Frey answered.</p><p>The dragon cleared her considerable throat. “It would appear that once again we have put a great... <em>pointless</em> weight on your shoulders, my friend.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I can only apologise. I will go and disperse them, let them know it was not-”</p><p>“Venti.”</p><p>“You can’t be- hm?” The dragon looked at her, head slightly cocked.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“...yes?”</p><p>Frey smiled, resting a palm on her scaled cheek. “Yes.”</p><p>The elder dragon’s great brown eyes widened. “But… You… I…”</p><p>She stroked the glittering green hide. “Venti.”</p><p>“...yes.”</p><p>Frey smiled, resting her forehead to the warmth of the dragon’s skin. They breathed together.</p><p>“Well, then.”</p><p>“Mm-hm.”</p><p>“Let’s go show them a wedding they’ll never forget, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. But first, since the ritual turned out to be bunk, let me change out of this hideous dress.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She had imagined that it would grow tiresome, after a while. Or at least that she would become a little bored, once the novelty had worn off. </p><p>Maybe she does, too, a little. When she has to till hours after hour, or work out in the rain, or wake up each day knowing she has so much to do, things that can’t just wait until she feels more like getting around to them. Nature doesn’t have any patience for the moods of farmers, even earthmates.</p><p>But she never actually <em>stops</em>. She could, she’s sure. Nobody would actually make her do any of it. She is hardly short of other jobs to do, many of them pressing.</p><p>There’s just something about the process of planting, raising and harvesting, cooking and crafting. Something about presenting her goods to the townsfolk, watching their faces light up as if it were the best thing that had happened all day.</p><p>It would wear off soon, she was sure. She’d get swept up in more important things. But until then…</p><p>Until then, it was dawn, and she had fields to tend.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sunny Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So! This is the so called ‘airship’ they claim can sail the skies.”</p><p>Illuminata stalked from one end of the deck to the other, glaring at the propellers, boxes and the boards, pausing intermittently to poke things suspiciously. Margaret watched her, tensing up whenever she approached the edge.</p><p>“Hmph. Well, I don’t buy it! Look how heavy it is!” She jumped up and down a few times for emphasis. “This thing will never fly.”</p><p>“But it does,” Margaret said, sighing, “it flies every day. Porcoline gets some exotic ingredients delivered with it.”</p><p>The other elf huffed. “Not possible. A big boat like this taking to the sky is just absurd. Ridiculous. How would it even work?”</p><p>Margaret pointed to the envelope above them, bloated with gas. “With that.”</p><p>Illuminata pouted. “That’s just even more weight. It’s all just a big con, Margaret. The question is, who is responsible, and what is their ultimate scheme?” </p><p>She sighed again, allowing Illuminata’s sleuthing instincts to run wild awhile.</p><p>“Is it a plan to confuse us? A thing that can travel in both land and air…”</p><p>“Surely it’s no more confusing than a person being both human and monster? Or man and woman?”</p><p>Illuminata paused, rapping her fist against the hull lightly. “That’s true… the world is rife with contradictions…”</p><p>Margaret smiled at her expression. She’d always been far too easy to read, thoughts flashing across her features, making her eyes light up.</p><p>“Why don’t we ride it, when it goes out tomorrow. It could be fun!”</p><p>“Psh. I guarantee that when the time comes, this so-called airship will remain firmly tethered to terra firma!”</p><p>“Alright,” Margaret conceded, patting her shoulder. “Then we’ll just have to go get breakfast at Porcoline’s.”</p><p>Illuminata narrowed her eyes, then shrugged, taking her hand and stepping back onto the street. “Fine. But… if it does happen to fly- to seem to fly, we’ll have to investigate the illusion to its fullest! Perhaps a spell, or some invisible dragon…”</p><p>Margaret nodded, still clasping her hand as they returned to Illuminata’s shop, the theories and ideas still buzzing brightly across her face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Bountiful Harvest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She holds her axe as easily as she holds a watering can, now. She lets it sit on her shoulder as she walks, knowing every inch of its weight and balance. She forged it, after all. Her other hand holds another, far smaller. She has already chided her child several times for running ahead, gently. There is still danger in their world, she reminds her. Even in their own little corner of it. Still the small hand wriggles in her grip and she can only smile. That desire to go on, explore and understand, to taunt that danger, embrace and overcome it… Perhaps it’s genetic, or perhaps she’s just surrounded herself with wonderful role models. The dungeon is deep, and every room they enter is like another old friend. She talks about the monsters, the architecture and the secrets. At the bottom floor, she lets her child try to lift the axe. It’s a beautiful day, somewhere above them, and somewhere there will be dinner on the stove, warm baths and laughing voices. They have adventured enough for today, she says, and the small face pouts, then yawns. She hefts the axe back onto her shoulder, the child easily carried under her other arm, and begins the walk back to Selphia, her fields and her home.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>~FIN~</p>
  </div></div>
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